“Please, Jameson. The anticipation is killing me.”
I don’t give her a chance to say anything else before I devour her. I hold her lips open as I fuck her with my tongue then come back out, finding her clit as I pull and suck it into my mouth. She comes with a scream. I tuck one arm under her hips to help bring her closer to me as she bucks and thrashes around while I continue to suck on her clit.
Wetness pools underneath her as I wipe the mess from my chin. Her breathing starts to slow, and I undo the spreader bar. I toss it off the bed and climb forward as I run my dick through her wetness. I line up with her opening and surge forward, causing Evie to cry out. I stall.
“You okay?” She shakes her head. “Use your words, baby.”
“Please fuck me, Jameson.”
And I do. I won’t last long. But I want her to come again, so I suck on her nipple and toy with the other as I fuck her hard, hitting that spot that makes her see stars. I know I’ve reached it when she gasps.
She screams, “Right there. Keep going.” She squeezes my cock as she comes, and I follow, climaxing along with her.
I collapse on top of her and swirl my tongue around her over sensitive nipple. With my dick still inside her, I undo the restraints on the headboard and hover over her as I remove the blindfold from her eyes. I look into her eyes and she smiles.
I kiss her and feel my cock harden again. I start to move and she wraps her legs around my waist. This time I fuck her softly, letting the gravity of what we just did register. She trusted me, and hopefully that’s enough. She loves me, and I know that’s everything.
Chapter Twenty-Five
EVIE
“Only Happy When It Rains” by Garbage
Idon’t know when we fell asleep, but I was fucked into unconsciousness. I’m awake at three AM, the witching hour. It is the time of night that nothing good happens, when evil is meant to be at its strongest and the supernatural run rampant, spreading lies and deceit through the remaining hours of nightfall.
I hear a crash and sit up quickly. Jameson is already out the bedroom door to investigate the disturbance. I throw on his shirt when I see him helping my drunk-as-shit brother up off the floor. The guy is piss drunk and reeks of cheap thrills taken in a dive bar bathroom stall.
I hope that I am exaggerating, but he does smell heavily of booze and sickly sweet perfume. His zipper is down and his dick is sticking out slightly and I wince, looking away just as quickly. I hope that he was trying to take a piss somewhere and it's not from anything else.
“Yikes. Commando. Agh. My eyes.” I rub at them, but some things cannot be unseen.
“Evie.” Jameson startles me from my verbal diarrhea. “Help me get him to his bed, please.”
I jump into action as I round the other side of Mateo and fling his arm around my shoulder. Jameson and I struggle but manage to bring his dead weight over to his room and attempt to lay him on his bed, but he bounces as we drop him there. He groans as if in pain.
Just wait until tomorrow.I shake the thought away with a violent shudder, remembering how that time felt and vowing never to feel that hungover again. That out of control.
“Yeah, that wasn’t fun for me either, bro.”
I tug his shoes off, and Jameson helps to remove his pants. I don’t want to see any more of my brother than I already had to this early morning, so I run over to the other side, lifting the covers as Jameson lifts his legs up and I swoop the covers from under and pull them upward and over his body.
I go t??he kitchen to grab a Gatorade and water bottle along with some pain medication. I know he will need it to help with what I am sure will be a raging headache when he finally wakes to welcome a more sobering day.
He will definitely regret this later.
After we place him on his side with a trash can in case he decides to puke, we close the door. I follow Jameson back to my room, and I swear I can still smell his scent of questionable morals lingering in a claustrophobic blanket of despair over my body.
Jameson is behind me now, waking me from my thoughts. He quickly kisses my neck, nuzzling and breathing in deeply. “Wow, he stunk,” Jameson says as he steps away from me, frowning as he sniffs his arm. “Can you still smell it?” he asks me, and I giggle, nodding.
“Right?” He grimaces. “Damn. I thought so.”
“Should we shower?” I think about it, but I am beat and want to go back to bed.
“We are getting up soon, so why bother? We can shower in a couple of hours when we have to get up anyway.”
He nods in silent agreement.
He rummages through the bathroom cabinet. “I found it.” He looks victorious as he waves my favorite lemon verbena spray and starts spraying our room and sheets with it. “There.” He puts the bottle down, sniffing the air.
